


The Visit

by thatonewriterchick



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Boyfriends, Established Relationship, Guardian x Human Relationship, M/M, Reunions, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 11:16:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13293690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatonewriterchick/pseuds/thatonewriterchick
Summary: This is about Devrim's mysterious Mark who makes good cheese and sends tea. And the visit he pays to his boyfriend.





	The Visit

**Author's Note:**

> So…Destiny celebrates their first confirmed gay character (not that you could tell from fanfiction, but whatever, lol). I’m wondering more about this mysterious Mark who makes good cheese and sends tea. He sounds like a good boyfriend…when he’s around. At the time I wrote this, I couldn't find any Mark x Devrim fiction; I hope that changes someday.

The tea arrived before he did, appearing late one morning in a small, nondescript box made of steel. Inside, a dozen rows of neatly packed tea bags. A soft, fragrant scent greeted Devrim when he’d lifted the lid and it took him a moment to place it – peaches. Tucked away beneath his gift was yet another, two words in a familiar, careful print across a scrap of thin parchment that curled at the edges:

_Stay safe. –M_

Devrim studied the words for the rest of the day, imagining a dozen other words packed behind just the pair: I’m fine. Miss you. Love you.

The tea smelled great dry and amazing as it steeped, staining the water rose. By lunch time, he was on his fourth cup, though on the same bag. Gifts were rare from his Mark, so he did his best to ration them. It was good quality, however, as the fifth cup was still almost as good as the first. And all of the extra trips to relieve himself were well worth it.

Despite the greater amount of Fallen activity – they were restless and would likely need a good thinning soon – his heart felt lighter than it had in a long while. He still had a few hours of his own watch left before his replacement arrived, and the weight of his gun – Mark’s gun – was comforting as always. After the fourteenth Vandal strayed into his sights, he lost count of how many others fell.

By the time relief came to him in the late afternoon, Devrim was covered in familiar aches. The tension in his shoulders, in his back from holding his weapon. As he climbed to the makeshift loft in the church’s attic, he tried not to think of Mark’s capable hands kneading the aches out of him.

Or the way he replaced them with a different kind of ache.

He didn’t notice the shadow in the corner until it shifted away from the wall and damn near gave him a heart attack.

“You’re sloppy when you’re tired,” came the honeyed tone.

“Mark,” Devrim sighed in relief and surprise, his finger leaving the trigger.

The titan stood to his full height, all broad shoulders and the endearing furrow of his blond brow. “What if I was the enemy?” He asked as he drew closer.

Devrim might have been able to come up with something had the taller man not grabbed a fistful of his vest and yanked him forward. Their lips crashed together, teeth clacking before Mark tilted his head a little to accommodate their height difference.

“Thank you for the tea,” Devrim murmured, breathless as he pressed a gentle, but firm hand to the taller male, guiding him down to the mattress.

A twitch of a smile touched Mark’s wide mouth as he settled against the sleeping bag after kicking his boots off. “Thought you might like that.”

Devrim was slow about putting his gun away, making sure the safety was on and it was out of the way while easily accessible. He took the time to talk himself down when all he wanted was to throw himself at the Guardian.

But Devrim Kay prided himself on his self-control. So he turned and approached the bed at a leisurely pace, drinking in the sight of his man.

Even outside of his armor, the titan was large, his body hard with muscle. In the muted light, Devrim could make out his shape and he remembered each of Mark’s scars from memory. Years ago, there had been a time in which they spent days in bed, Devrim tracing the damaged flesh with light touches of his fingers, mouth and tongue. Mark had retold the stories of each until one couldn’t stand to be outside of the other any longer.

The Guardian was dressed down in civilian’s clothes and it was easy to see evidence of his arousal through the soft material of his pants, the tempting length straining against the fabric.

“Did you miss me?” Devrim asked, stroking his lover with the open palm of his hand. He relished in the way Mark’s head fell back, his mouth falling open with a sigh.

“Maybe a little,” the younger male growled out a moment later, even as his cock kicked against Devrim’s hand.

“Only a little?” Devrim teased, hooking his fingers around the waist band. Mark lifted his hips a little, but frowned when the other man only pulled down his pants so the first couple of inches of his cock poked out. “I must not be doing my job as your partner, then.”

He dipped his head, nuzzling Mark’s bare hip, knowing the scratchiness of his beard was something the younger man enjoyed. As expected, there was a little jerk of the titan’s hips and a quick swipe of tongue over his lips. “Fucking tease,” Mark breathed, stroking a hand through Devrim’s hair.

When the grip on his hair tightened, trying to guide him, Devrim bit down on the skin beneath his mouth drawing a soft groan. “Always so impatient,” he replied, soothing the bite with kisses and licks that moved steadily closer to his destination.

Mark had cleaned up before arriving; he knew from experience how the man tasted in the field versus in the city. And as he closed his mouth around the tip of him, he could smell the faint, familiar scent of hand soap with a twinge of the oil Mark liked to use on his armor. Devrim bit back a smile as the other male’s hips surged up, even against the hands holding him down.

“Play too long and you’ll be playing alone,” Mark warned, his warning breathless and gravelly. “It’s been damn near a year since I’ve had you.”

An empty threat, perhaps, but Devrim wasn’t in the mood to test it. He gave a final suck that pulled another groan from Mark before pulling away and reaching over to his bag. The small bottle of lube was easy enough to find; he used it on himself more often than he would care to admit.

In the time it took to coat his fingers with oil, Mark had lost all of his clothes, his erection arching proudly toward his hard stomach. He gave himself a couple of lazy strokes before sucking in a breath and dropping his hand.

Mark raised a leg, bending it at the knee and Devrim took the silent invitation. They both gasped as he slid two fingers into Mark’s tight heat. “Even better than I remember,” Devrim confessed, curving his fingers down a little and giving a few test strokes in search of his treasure.

The roughened patch of tissue met his questing touch just as Mark arched his back on a groaned curse. Devrim took it as encouragement, pumping his digits until the man beneath him was a shivering, shuddering mess. Pulling away, Devrim shed the rest of his clothes with fumbling hands, excitement making him unsteady.

And yet, even as he lined himself up, he couldn’t help stroking the head of his cock over Mark’s entrance, stretching out those last moments of anticipation. In the end, it was Mark who braced his arms above him, using the wall as leverage to force himself down onto Devrim’s length.

“About fucking time,” Mark moaned, as Devrim pushed back until he filled the other completely.

And when he was there, Mark’s tight heat clenching around him, Devrim could do little more than agree. His fingers were digging into his bottom’s hips, anchoring him into place when instinct demanded he take and give what they both wanted, needed.

But it’d been too long to get rough; Devrim didn’t get off on hurting his lover needlessly.

He began with a subtle shift, a tiny withdrawal preluding a miniscule return. Mark hummed beneath him, cock half mast, the sting of intrusion having stolen some of the momentum. The titan was gripping Devrim’s arms with a grip bordering on painful, but the strain in his face reflected otherwise.

“Let me know if I need to slow down,” Devrim murmured when the pace was slow, but rhythmic.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” was the growled reply. There was a pause, then a needy moan that shot straight to the scout’s cock. “Fuck, Dev. I’ve missed this.”

If the way the Guardian’s length was thick and bobbing with each snap of Devrim’s hips was any indication, he more than missed it. Devrim chuckled between pants, guiding Mark’s legs to raise until his knees were resting against his shoulders. Leaning forward, Devrim let his weight hold Mark in place and worked his hips faster. “I’ve thought about this for a long time, Mark,” he confessed with a groan of his own. “This? Much better than I imagined.”

Devrim wouldn’t last much longer, however. He could feel the pleasure at the base of his spine, building at the speed of his thrusts as it drew his sac up tight. Beneath him, Mark’s moans had slid up half an octave, gaining volume as he jerked his length between them.

It was Devrim who succumbed first, the sight of his disheveled love in the throes of passion pushing him over the edge. That tight hole milked him, even as the rhythm stuttered and became erratic.

“Oh, fuck…Oh, Dev…” Mark’s head craned back, big body straining against the pleasure. He came in a series of sharp grunts and Devrim wished the light was better so he could see the thick shots of seed shooting across Mark’s stomach and chest.

The titan wilted when the pleasure dimmed and Dev pushed himself back to allow Mark’s legs to lower, though he began to move his hips again. It produced something that felt as good as it ached, but Devrim allowed himself a few thrusts before he slipped free.

It took the last of his strength to situate himself on the cot beside Mark. The space was meant for one and certainly not one of Mark’s size, yet the former cradled Devrim’s back against his front and the limited space was only a slight discomfort.

Mark peppered Devrim’s skin with soft, lazy kisses that made the scout hum with pleasure. As they lay in the dark attic, the faint crack of gunfire and distant battle in the background, Devrim tried to pretend his titan would stay for more than the next few hours. Allowed the fantasy of them working the same post and living a somewhat domesticated life to seem like a possibility.

War didn’t work that way, however. Mark might stay for a day at most, but then he would be off again, pushing back the Darkness in any form it took. It was how he dealt with recovering his Light; something he’d thought himself never capable of losing.

Devrim couldn’t hold it against him, even though he couldn’t fully understand.

As their breaths evened out and Mark’s idle touches made awareness and interest dance inside of Devrim again, he closed his eyes and pushed away his thoughts. He wanted to remember and enjoy the time they had, to etch it into his memory and recall it on those nights when he ached for the other man so fiercely the pain felt like a physical thing.

It wasn’t long before he felt the erection pressing at his backside and the feel and promise of it made Devrim smile.

“I want to be inside you,” Mark confessed, his breath spilling over Devrim’s ear before teeth closed around the tender flesh.

“I do love the way you think.” And as he rolled onto his back, Mark’s comforting and welcome weight settling over him, Devrim knew Mark would leave him with enough memories to make it until their next time together.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So I read this article by this gay man who was giving tips to women about how to write more accurate gay love scenes and I tried to incorporate it here. For practice. And science. I may or may not have also watched the "infamous" Brokeback Mountain scene as well. I am not ashamed.


End file.
